


Intervention

by Indigo2831



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: 118 firefam, Buck Is A Rockhead, Buck and Eddie, Buck and Eddie's Co-Dependent Bromance, Buck has been through a lot, Buck's In The Hospital Again, Crushed By A Firetruck Aftermath, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fainting, Found Family, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, canon complaint, tsunami aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 18:34:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21462637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Indigo2831/pseuds/Indigo2831
Summary: Buck has been through hell with the explosion and the tsunami and the blood clots.  He didn't realize it affected more than him.  Post 3x06's "Monsters."
Relationships: 118 Firefam - Relationship, Buck and Eddie - Relationship, Buck and Hen
Comments: 29
Kudos: 361





	Intervention

**Author's Note:**

> I'd set out to write a short one-shot with flashbacks of the aftermath of 2x18, 3x01, and 3x03, but it took on a life of its own and turned into a FireFam saga. I actually kind of love it. Let me know what you think.

_ As a soldier, training and procedure were patterned in the marrow of his bones and grafted into his molecules, so it would be continual and permanent. So nothing could override that programming. _

_ Except for seeing his best friend crushed by a firetruck, lying helpless and bleeding, amongst the burning debris. Something in his brain short-circuited with a pronounced zap and was replaced by a high-pitched drone. Something precious and light in his heart withered from the all-out horror, and suddenly Eddie was running, heedless of the danger. Towards a bomber, towards his friend, towards the victim. _

_ Eddie would never remember those rabid minutes when he lost himself in the depths of utter fear radiating from the sight of seeing his friend, a damn civilian trapped in the middle of a warzone. When his senses returned, Hen and an officer were practically sitting on top of him, hands over his mouth. Another was nursing a swelling eye and bloody nose. _

_ Buck was still trapped under ten tons of metal. _

Legend had it that the Santa Anas had the ability to stir up sinister natures in the human soul and caused strange happenings wherever they blew. Eddie could recite it from memory because Buck had been gullibly worried about it for days. Eddie was just now beginning to think there was some truth to it. They'd been on non-stop calls since the arrival of the "devil winds" two days ago. Today alone, they'd been on four calls, and they were only nine hours into their shift. Once again, meals had been abandoned, supplies were low, and the crew was already exhausted from the work and the surge-and-drop cycle of adrenaline. 

The ladder truck had barely stopped before Eddie hopped out to bolt to the locker room, shedding his shirt that was covered in motor oil and bile, thanks to a nasty car accident and a teenager who was more panicked about the damage to the family car than physically injured, scrubbed himself down, and re-dressed. He made a bee-line for the supply room and grabbed a bit of everything to help Hen and Chimney re-stock the ambulance and the truck. 

Bobby ducked in his office to return a few phone calls while Buck checked and cleaned the equipment and made sure the truck was fueled. 

“Is this what Afghanistan was like?” Chimney asked, words muffled from the power bar hanging from his lips like a cigarette. He mopped the grime out of the ambulance, chewing ravenously. 

Eddie scrubbed the sweat from his forehead and tossed the packaged supplies to Hen, one at a time. “I remember a lot more downtime,” Eddie griped. 

Buck moved away from the truck and Eddie barely spared him a glance before double-taking to absorb his appearance fully. Buck had stripped off his LAFD shirt and was down to his gray undershirt and turnout pants, which was covered Rorschach blotches of perspiration. Beyond that, the blue of his eyes was ever more piercing against a worryingly pale ivory sheen of his skin. Frowning, he asked, “Buck…you good?” 

His friend blinked as if to clear his vision. Buck’s extended a hand towards Eddie and swayed a bit in that direction. Eddie noticed immediately that it was shaking. “...I think need...some...shu…” Buck stammered but the words died on his lips as the expression slacked to one of sheer blankness.

To Eddie’s horror, Buck pitched forward, limp and unchecked. Eddie dove to snag whatever part of the falling body he could. He grappled with Buck’s considerable weight, and opted for a sloppily controlled fall, and hit the ground harshly, biting his tongue as he tried to cushion Buck’s lolling head with the meat of his thighs. 

“Buck, hey! Can you hear me? _ EVAN _!” He screamed directly in his ear. Buck was slumped in his lap, out cold. Eddie slapped his cheeks, noting that his skin was clammy and unusually warm. 

“Hen, Chimney, help!”

They were already in action: Hen assisted Eddie with moving Buck into the recovery position while Chimney snatched equipment and supplies from the truck, handing Eddie a pair of gloves. Eddie pressed his fingers to Buck’s carotid. “Pulse is rapid but strong.” He instinctively reached for the stethoscope that wasn’t draped around his neck. 

Barely quelled trauma from Buck’s last collapse compelled Eddie to sweep a gloved finger through his mouth, checking for blood. 

He hadn’t realized it wasn’t fully breathing until he found it empty.

“What’s happening?” Bobby yelled as he clamored down the stairs.

“Buck’s down,” Hen said. Eddie didn’t miss the shrill ring of tears in her voice. “Hang in there, Buck,” she pleaded while she performed a sternal rub. “Come on, kid.”

_ Even over the drone of the sirens, Eddie could hear the steady plink of dripping. Blood from Buck’s crushed leg splattering against the floor of the ambulance. _

_ Blood was everywhere. On the sheets. On the equipment. On him. The leg itself was a disastrous plane of destroyed muscle and exposed bone. Eddie had seen limbs amputated with less damage. He breathed through his mouth, triggered by the stench of smoke and blood, and focused on his friend. Hypovolemic shock was taking its toll, and Buck was drifting in and out of consciousness, and Eddie was glad he was gratefully out and away from the pain. Hen worked with detachment which gave Eddie the chance to just be a friend. He placed his hand on the top of Buck’s head, touch feather-light, and stroked the soot-steaked curls there. “Hang in there, Buck, okay? We’re right here. We got you.” _

Buck was unconscious for a little more than a minute, and he woke in a manner that was vintage Buck. His eyes fluttered before opening fully, and he stared at the rafters of the firehouse with a dazed confusion before muttering, “Shit! Sorry guys,” and tried to sit up. 

Chimney was holding up the IV bag and used his other hand to press Buck flat to the ground. “Not a chance.” 

Buck patted his body down, feeling the leads of the heart monitor, his shredded shirt and the BP cuff. “I don’t need all this. M’sugar’s just low.” His speech was slurred, but his voice was strong and breathing was unlabored. 

Bobby was hovering beside Eddie, a silent specter, face reflecting the fear they all felt. “Let them work, Buck.” 

“Didn’t eat this morning…’n all the calls. Nasal cannula, seriously, Hen?” Buck complained, pulling out the bothersome oxygen tube that snaked under his nose. 

Hen leveled Buck with a glare that could’ve cracked diamonds. “Patient presents with a history of _ pulmonary embolism _. EMTs will ensure that airways are protected,” she said pointedly, replacing the cannula and snagged the index finger of the roaming hand, and cleansed and pricked it without warning. “Running glucose now.” 

“How you feelin’ now?” Eddie asked. “Headache? Chest pain?”

Buck closed his eyes and licked his lips as if he was assessing. “No, dizzy, shaky. Just need candy or somethin’.” 

“He’s right: his blood sugar’s in the toilet. It’s _ fifty-seven. _ Temperature is also up,” Hen reported. 

“It’s hot outside,” Buck whined.

“And you’re dehydrated,” Chimney frowned. “Cap, you’re going to have to step up those cooking lessons, so Bucko can at least feed himself,” he quipped with a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. 

“Hey, we already covered breakfast,” Bobby replied, aiming for levity.

Eddie tore himself from Buck’s side long enough to grab a can of off-brand soda Hen kept in the truck to remove blood stains from the pavement. It wasn’t cold, but it would work. “Don’t sit up yet,” he said. He slid a hand under Buck’s head and slowly lifted it, so he could sip at the cola. 

By the time he’d finished the can, he’d regained a bit of color, and the noticeable trembling had eased. Chimney and Hen warily let him rise to a seated position. 

“You’re going to the hospital to get checked out, Buck,” Bobby said.

Frustration flash across his face and Buck prepared to mount a protest, but he glanced up at the clutch concerned faces and seemed to think better of it. “I’m not going in the ambulance,” he said softly, adamant. 

“As far as I’m concerned, you’re a patient now. You will be transported as such.” 

Eddie scrutinized Buck, and he didn’t seem to be resisting because of his trademark foolhardiness. He was scared, possibly triggered. “Cap, I can drive him,” Eddie offered. 

“Yeah, Eddie can drive me,” Buck echoed, and disconnected the heart monitor, leaving the leads on. 

Bobby waggled his head as if considering. “IV stays in,” he conceded.

“This is ridiculous,” Buck said as Eddie and Hen slowly hefted Buck off the ground and escorted him out of the firehouse and to Eddie’s car, each one bracing an arm at the elbow. “I can walk, guys.” 

Chimney trailed behind them with the IV, holding it up. Despite his complaining, Buck sighed gratefully when he was stowed in the passenger seat of Eddie’s truck, IV bag hanging on the hook near the handle. 

And that was how Eddie ended up crowded ER waiting room at 4:30 pm on a Wednesday, carefully thinking around the few times he ended up in the same predicament. He adjusted the strap on his portable radio and thought about texting Maddie, even though Buck had made him promise not to make worry, especially when she would be at work for the next seven hours. 

When he could no longer stand the bloodshot-eyed stranger’s wet hacking or proximity, Eddie ducked out the ambulance bay entrance for some sunlight and distraction. 

“Eddie?” Athena called. She was leaning against the opposite side of the wide entrance, nursing a giant tumbler of coffee. 

“Hey, Athena,” he greeted, closing the distance between them. “Hope you’re here for a perp, not a partner.” 

“A petty thief thought a three-story fall was better than a few days in lock-up,” Athena recounted, shaking her head. “I swear they keep makin’ them dumber. You guys usually patch ‘em up and move it out. Why are you hanging around?” 

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest. “I’ll give you one guess.” 

She pulled her Aviator's down the bridge of her nose and propped a hand on her hip. “What'd Buck do now?” 

“Besides giving the whole team a coronary? Went an entire shift or more without eating and passed out.” 

Athena took a sip of coffee. “Like I said: DUMBER.” 

_ It had taken the expertise of two fathers, a big sister, and giant hunks of cake to calm down Harry, Denny, and Christopher after Buck had collapsed in the middle of his own party. Eddie pressed a kiss to Christopher’s forehead and wiped a smudge of frosting off his cheek with a swipe of his thumb. “I’m going to go check on Ms. Athena. I’ll be right back, bud. Eat your cake.” _

_ The party decorations provided viciously ironic cheer to the home haunted by Buck’s latest near-death, and Eddie fought the urge to grab the butcher knife and pop all the balloons and rip down the streamers and banners as he passed through it. “Athena?” _

_ The guests had left, and the 118 had all headed to the hospital, trailing behind the ambulance. Athena and Eddie offered to stay and tend to the kids. He followed the swish of bristles over stone. Athena was on her hands and knees on the patio, trying to wash the blood out of the paver stones, tears gleaming in the warming lamps. _

_ He grabbed a can of Coke and headed outside. He knelt down beside her and gently took the brush from her grasp. The water and drifts of suds in the bucket swirled pink, but the stone held the macabre splatters of crimson. Eddie cracked the can and poured it over the stains. _

_ As they watched the soda foam and spread over the stones, Eddie said, “You sure know how to throw a party.” _

_ Mid-sob, Athena choked and sputtered on the unexpected attempt at humor. “I hate that boy,” she admitted. _

_ Eddie placed a hand on her shoulder, which she squeezed tightly. “Yeah, me too.” _

_ Sniffling, Athena went back to scrubbing. _

“I don’t think he realizes what this does to us, ya know?” Eddie said. 

Beyond Buck’s generosity, epic stubborn streak, and exasperating charm, there was a sadness and a lack of self-worth that Eddie couldn’t begin to explain. He detected it early in their friendship and had always sought out his source. But as boundary-less as Buck was with most people, Eddie knew shockingly little about his childhood or life before the LAFD. Buck had mentioned traveling throughout South America and Mexico, and have difficulty in school, but that was it. Eddie suspected his early life was a lonely one.

“Oh, he doesn’t. He’s got a heart of gold, but he’s lacking in the self-preservation department. He’s been flirting with stupid ever since I met him,” Athena said wistfully. “He gonna be all right?” As much as she teased him, she loved him just as much as Eddie, possibly more.

“Yeah. They’re just running some precautionary tests. I just need to know he’s settled before I head back to the station. I should probably go check on him now.” 

Eddie walked towards the entrance, and Athena followed. “Believe it or not, Buck has changed a lot since I met him, and it’s for the better. Not sure if you’ve heard all of the tales about Buck 1.0, but I have about a dozen of them.” 

“I’ve heard a few, from him, so it’s just about his ‘dope’ rescues,” Eddie rolled his eyes. “Maybe we’ll teach him how to take care of himself in the next decade or two?” 

“If we’re lucky…” 

When Eddie was reassured to find Buck dozing when he was brought back to his treatment room. He’d been scheduled for a CT to rule out any additional blood clots, but the doctor was confident that Buck had been right about the diagnosis of hypoglycemia and dehydration. He still had a fever, so there was a chance a virus had taken hold. Eddie took in the ridiculous sight of Buck at rest, lost in the billowing folds of the hospital gown, and stubbornly his uniform pants and boots. It was like beholding a hummingbird landing or finding two matching snowflakes--a feat that rarely happened in nature.

_ Eddie had never missed or needed Shannon more, but he was always one to work with what he had. He’d climbed up in the hospital bed, swaddling Christopher in blankets, as he had when he was a newborn and he’d found the world terrifying and loud, then his own arms and held him as tight as he could. He allowed him to cry, and talk if he needed. On top of the tsunami and being alone for hours in a disaster, he’d seen his Buck collapse from the rigors of his own watery misadventure. “Check on Buck,” Christopher murmured, eyes closed, “Please.” He’d fallen asleep crying for Buck and awoke to do the same. _

_ Eddie pressed a kiss to his forehead. At that moment, he didn’t think he’d be physically capable of leaving his son’s side ever again. There was a primal scream inside of him that told him Christopher would vanish if he did. But one look at his son’s face, and the utter fear there, and he nodded, tearing himself away. “Be back, okay?” _

_ He grew colder with every step he’d taken away from his son, and by the time he made it to the hall, he was shivering in the frigid grip of shock. Chimney was standing outside of the room, holding a stuffed elephant that was bigger than Christopher, and a giant balloon stuffed with smaller balloons and tinsel. “They didn’t have ‘Sorry you got stuck in a tsunami’ cards at the gift shop.” Like Eddie, he was still wearing his mud-slicked gear and a weary smile. _

_ “I bet they will now. Will you stay with him for a few minutes? I gotta...” He waggled a thumb towards the elevator. _

_ “Do what you gotta do,” Chimney waved him off and proceeded into the room, pretending he couldn’t fit in the doorway because of the size of the elephant. Christopher’s hoarse giggles gave Eddie the strength to go. _

_ Buck’s room was on the floor below. The doctors were optimistic if a bit guarded, not knowing everything he’d endured during the tsunami and concerned about the possible internal bleeding from his blood thinners. Maddie was a hunched figure over his bedside. She held his limp hand in hers, sweeping the other up and down the plane of his arm. _

_ There was a pile of crumpled tissues on the bed. Like Buck, Maddie was a crier. “I don’t wanna bother you. Christopher was worried,” he said. “So-so am I, of course.” Everything he said sounded stupid or contrite. _

_ Maddie stood up, and gestured to the chair, and opted to see at the edge of the bed. “They sedated him, so he could rest. He’s got a fever now, though. I’m just glad he’s resting,” she said. _

_ Eddie sat in the vacated chair. In the low light, he could see the bruises that mottled the exposed skin of Buck’s arm. The scratches across his face. The bloodlessness of his lips. He still smelled of saltwater, and there were blood and grime beneath his fingernails. Buck had fought hard. For Christopher. For others. Gratitude and anger and sadness churned inside of him like a typhoon, and before he even registered it, he was weeping, Buck’s hand clutched in his. “Thank you. Buck, thank you.” _

A wad of hastily balled up tissues thudded anticlimactically against Eddie’s nose. “Two points,” Buck huffed, lifting the arm untethered by the IV up in the air in celebration. 

“You’re feeling better,” Eddie smiled. 

“I told you, man. All of this is overkill,” Buck gestured to the heart monitor and the hospital room.

“Pardon us for caring. I gotta head back to the house. Call me when you’re scans are done, and I’ll come get you if I can. Oh, if you think about slipping out, I wouldn’t. Athena’s on guard,” Eddie warned. 

Buck was appalled. “That’s cheating!” 

Eddie backed out of the treatment area, grinning. He tossed a mock-salute to Athena and headed back to work. 

He sadly had plenty of practice of working while Buck was in the hospital. The house wasn’t as lively without Buck trash-talking Hen, playing movie trivia with Chimney or forcing Eddie to run drills between calls. And working without him was more like performing his job with a missing sense. The 118 was filled with fantastic firefighters, but he and Buck and developed a rapport, a partnership that he’d never had with another anyone else, even in the Army. 

Luckily, the sheer insanity of the day had given way to a bit of a lull that allowed the crew to regroup, catch much-needed meals, showers and naps. With eight hours left of the shift, Buck hopped up the stairs to the lofted kitchen, grumpy, bruised and heavily bandaged from IV sites and blood draws (#BloodThinnersSuck). He was, however, sporting more color than he had just a few hours earlier and a fresh uniform shirt. Eddie perked up from where he was hunched over of cereal. He knew by the lightness in Buck’s face that there were no additional clots and he’d been cleared for duty. He lifted a fist in the air, and Buck bumped it with a boastful “told ya so,” as he passed by the table to Bobby’s office. 

When he came back, he sat at the table with Eddie and dug into a plastic sack from his favorite sandwich shop. 

Hen, who was watching TV on the couch, gawked. “You can’t possibly be going back to work.” 

“Why wouldn’t I? I got the all-clear from the doc. I’m about to eat a balanced meal. I’ll be good to go.” 

“Oh, so your fever magically disappeared?” 

Buck took a bite of his sandwich, which was a crusty panini that oozed sauce and veggies. “It’s under 100, it’s barely anything. I run hot, Hen, always have,” he said with a playful waggle of his eyebrows. 

Hen threw her hands up in the air. Buck’s particular superpower was leaving a wave of exasperation in his wake. By now, though, they all had amassed a pretty high tolerance for his stubbornness and an obsession with his job, so even Eddie frowned at Hen’s sensitivity. 

She stood up, face harder than cement, and advanced towards him. “Did you ever think that this is why Bobby didn’t want you to come back?” Hen questioned. “Did you ever think what seeing you not give a shit about yourself does to _ us _?” 

A glop of cheese fell out of Buck’s sandwich as he stared at Hen in devastated shock. “So much to marching to the beat of your own drum, huh, Hen?” Buck sneered, clearly wounded. 

“Chim, you want to help me out here?” Eddie asked.

Chimney lifted his hands in surrender and mimed zipping his lips.

Eddie sighed and played mediator, “Hen, let’s go for a coffee run.” 

She stuffed her hand in her pockets and leaned against the kitchen island. She would not be moved. “Someone needs to stay here in case he passes out again.” 

Color blossomed in Buck’s cheeks and neck, belying the casual slump of his shoulders. 

Eddie had never wished for a fire at a gunpowder factory or a plane crash more in his life. Nothing solved house dramas like an intense call, but he knew that this was more complicated and painful than their normal petty squabbles. 

“I forgot to eat, Hen. We've been worked to the bone. My sugar dropped. It happens. _I’m fine_.” 

“Are you, Buck? Because I’ve never ever heard of you missing a meal. Even Buck 1.0, who couldn’t cook or keep his it in his pants, could feed himself.” 

Eddie could see Buck’s emotions rising in the clench of his fists and the tightness of his jaw. He stood up so quickly his chair nearly toppled. He regarded with nostrils flared. Hen, who was radiating energy that was equally dangerous and powerful, stared back, unmoved. 

“Can you please just do this another day?” Eddie begged. “We’re all running on fumes.”

“Why? It’s not like you disagree with me.” 

Buck’s head whipped to Eddie’s, eyes ping-ponging between Hen and Eddie, betrayal flickering in the pale blue eyes. “What? Eddie, what is she talking about?” 

Eddie averted his eyes and remained silent, sweat rising on his back. 

“He didn’t want you to come back either,” Hen admitted with a perverse sense of pride. 

The pressure of Buck’s accusatory glower was more unbearable than the silence that blanketed the kitchen. 

“Eddie, what is she talking about?” 

Eddie cast an irate, sidelong glance at Hen. “I can’t believe you just did that.” He turned to face his best friend and the man who’d saved his son’s life. “I never said I didn’t think you should come back. I’d just seen you after your second surgery, and you were in so much pain, and so...shellshocked from everything. I was scared and sick of seeing you in pain. I just wanted you to feel better, and not to rush back into anything,” Eddie explained as calmly as he could. “I was _ worried _about you, Buck. I still am.” 

The truth hadn’t disarmed Buck, instead, it seemed to activate him more. His energy shifted, turning inward, and Eddie couldn’t read him anymore, which usually meant he was about to do something stupid. Buck’s attention turned to Chimney, who was trying to disappear behind a pillar. “What about you?” 

His eyebrows climbed. “I’m in love with your sister, and I run into burning buildings with you, friend,” Chimney began. “I plead the fifth.” 

Buck flicked his nibbled-on sandwich away with an irate swat of his hand. And Eddie wished Hen had timed her ambush until after he’d eaten. 

“You guys have no idea what I’ve gone through, what I’ve endured to get back here. I’ve been blown up, beaten down, and humiliated in front of my squad and LA. _ I almost lost my leg _ ,” Buck’s tone was tremulous and gravelly with emotion, fists clenched. “I thought once I got back here, once Bobby let me do what I do best, you’d all see me I like I was before. I used to be Buck, the guy who did The Maneuver or the guy who saved people. Now I’m Buck, the guy on YouTube screaming as he’s pulled from beneath a firetruck. I’m a meme and a joke and a _ victim _,” he spat. Guess I was wrong,” Buck wiped his eyes and stood up. “I’m heading home. Happy, Hen?” 

Hen sucked in a breath and exhaled a sob. Everyone turned to look at her as one of the toughest firefighters in the 118 sobbed openly in the kitchen, shoulders shaking. Buck froze at the stairs, dramatic exit forgotten. Chimney ran to Hen’s side and whispered to her in low tones. Wanting to do something, Eddie grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge and handed it to her. 

Hen and Karen were mired in the babymaking process, and Eddie knew how scared and overwhelmed he and Shannon were during their pregnancy, and yet he couldn’t imagine the emotional shitstorm creating a child through IVF could be on top of having an incredibly demanding job.

“You’re like one of those fish that follow sharks around and clean them and eat their scraps,” Hen rambled, barely understandable through tears. “The shark needs the fish and tolerates the fish and eventually misses the fish when it’s gone. I just want you to be okay,” Hen said. “I worry that you’re not. I _dream_ that you’re not. I know that you’re not. How could anyone be after all you went through?” 

“I’m okay," Buck insisted.

Hen shook her head. “You know what I thought when I saw you at the VA hospital during the tsunami? Before we found out what happened? I thought you went there on your own to prove to us that you could work. I thought you damn near got yourself killed on purpose because of this crusade to be a firefighter. I worry that you care so much about everyone but yourself, Buck, and that you don’t see how amazing _you_ are,” Hen wept.

Eddie couldn’t disagree, and guilt overcame him because he’d never known how to address similar concerns with Buck. He thought watching his six would be enough until Buck came to him. 

Chimney clapped his hands together, and finally, carefully weighed in. “I think of you as an annoying little brother. One day, you might actually _be_ my annoying little brother. Sometimes I’m terrified that you won’t be here when that day comes. If you’re good, man, that’s great. I went through something traumatic, and it wasn’t for a long time. This is a safe space, Buck, just so you know,” Chimney said.

“Well, this feels _great_. All that’s missing is a banner that says, ‘Intervention',” Buck sighed, back up towards the stairs. 

Eddie bodily hauled him back to the kitchen. “You’re not leaving. You never answered Hen’s question. You’ve done everything but,” he realized. “Buck, look at me,” he waited until Buck’s eyes met his, “we’re all here for you. No one is taking your job away. No one thinks of you as a victim. You’ve been through more crap than actual soldiers, man.”

She lifted her tear-streaked glasses to the top of her head and tried again. “Why didn’t you eat last night, Buck?” She asked with such insistence that something sharp and sick clenched in Eddie’s stomach. 

Buck rubbed the back of his neck as his chin began to quiver as he confessed, “_ It was raining _.” 

Eddie’s knees weakened and an ache lanced through his chest. He had no idea. Christopher wasn’t bothered by the rain or even taking baths. Last night, Eddie had all but somersaulted in the bed, eager to be lulled to sleep by the pop-patter of rain against his roof--a rare treat in arid LA--but he hadn’t once considered that Buck was alone and traumatized_ to_ the point of starvation by the same sounds he found innately relaxing. “Why didn’t you call anyone?”

Buck was fascinated by his shoes. “I trained, ya know. After the tsunami, I went to the pool. I went to the academy to do hose drills. I made sure that water wasn’t a trigger, but sometimes I can’t control it.” 

“You’re going through it, and we’re _so damn proud _of you for how far you’ve come, but watching you suffer alone hurts Hen. It hurts Eddie. It hurts me. Let’s us help,” Chimney said.

“No one here thinks you’re weak, Buck. You’re one of the toughest, most badass people I’ve ever met. And I will beat anyone’s ass who says otherwise, okay?” Hen promised. 

He’d been working so hard to prove himself to everyone, but there was no need with the 118, and it seems that they had finally gotten through to him. Sniffling, Buck leaned down until his forehead was pressed against Hen’s shoulder, hugging so hard she squeaked. "Okay, okay, you guys. I'll try." 

Hen's arms encircled Buck's waist. "That's all we're asking, kid."

“Do you feel left out? I feel left out,” Chimney complained to Eddie with a wicked arch of an eyebrow. 

Eddie darted over and tackled them both, and grunted when Chimney piled on. 

The siren blared through the kitchen, and Bobby jogged out of his office, radio in hand, but skidded to a halt at the mass of tangled firefighters in his kitchen, all of them with tear-stained faces. “Do I want to know?” 

“Nope!” They all said in unison as they scrambled to the trucks. 

*Five Weeks Later*

_ Hen held the door open for Eddie, who had a bag in each hand, Christopher’s crutches under his arm, and a nine-year-old on his back. They ventured down the hall to Buck’s loft. Maddie jogged to join them, specks of drizzle glittering in her hair. Buck answered the door to four grinning, hopeful faces. His hair was fuzzily unkempt, and he looked vaguely haunted. Thunder clapped outside and Buck startled violently, paling a little at what had to echo through his mind like an explosion. _

_ “Who’s up for Game Night?” Hen offered. _

_ “And nachos!” Christoper added. _

_ Buck’s smiled bashfully and stepped aside to let them in. Eddie draped an arm around his shoulders, and Buck’s entire body loosened with relief, and his eyes flooded with gratitude. “Thank you,” he mouthed before snatching Christopher off Eddie’s back and tickling him. _

_ Christopher’s laughter echoed through Buck’s cavernous apartment joining in with the music Maddie turned on. Laughter and chatter of friends drowned out the thunder and put Buck at ease. It took a family to turn trauma and struggle into hope and love. And that’s exactly what the 118 was. _

Fin


End file.
